


Green-Eyed Epiphany

by LittlebutFiery



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, I don't really know how else to tag this?, Love Confessions, Meddling Friends, Post-Promised Day, Rating for Language, fluff? semi-crack? both?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlebutFiery/pseuds/LittlebutFiery
Summary: With the fraternization laws repealed, nothing's stopping Roy Mustang from asking Riza Hawkeye on a date, except his own nerves. Team Mustang decides to step in and force their usually-fearless leader into action.





	Green-Eyed Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> Green-Eyed Epiphany: (trope) The jealousy-spurred Love Epiphany of a character who's in love with someone else, but has been in denial about this up until now.

“Hey, Hawkeye. I need a favor.”

Hawkeye stopped and turned to see Havoc trotting towards her, a sheepish smile on his face. She raised an eyebrow skeptically, asking, “Do I want to know?”

“It’s nothing, I promise!” Havoc insisted. “Please, ma’am.”

Hawkeye frowned, curious. Havoc _never_ called her ma’am unless he was trying to get something out of her. “I’m listening.”

“So I’ve been meaning to ask Becca out for a while…” Havoc began.

Hawkeye chuckled, earning a scowl from Havoc. She teased, “I never would have guessed, Jean. It’s not like you turn into a lovestruck idiot around her, or anything.”

Havoc blushed, mumbling a half-hearted retort and rubbing his head. “Yeah, yeah…”

“How can I help?” Hawkeye asked, voice gentler.

“So, uh…” Havoc began awkwardly. “I really…don’t want to fuck everything up with Becca…like I have with everyone else.”

Hawkeye smiled, waiting for him to go on. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, fidgeting with it as he continued, “So, uh, I thought…it might not be a bad idea to do a practice run, y’know?”

Havoc pulled a cigarette out from the pack, rolling it between his fingers. “And I don’t really have a lot of female friends I _haven’t_ already dated, so…”

“You want me to be your practice run?” Hawkeye chuckled.

Havoc laughed nervously, staring at his feet. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Of course,” Hawkeye went on. Havoc looked up, surprised. “You and Becca are some of my closest friends. Of course I want you to help you be happy.”

“Thanks, Hawkeye,” Havoc grinned. “You’re the best.”

She nodded. “So where would you like to go?”

“Wait, hold on. I haven’t even asked you yet!” Havoc protested.

Hawkeye cocked her head, curious. “Oh?”

Havoc got flustered again. “I figure…I might not get the chance to ask Becca in private, so…could I get some practice asking, too? Like…in front of people?”

Hawkeye chuckled again. “If you insist. Anything else?”

“No, ma’am,” Havoc shook his head. “Thanks, Hawkeye.”

She nodded. “Let’s get back to work now, alright?”

Havoc nodded as well. “Just gonna take a quick smoke break. I’ll be right in.”

“Those things are going to kill you someday,” Hawkeye frowned as she began to walk towards their office.

Havoc laughed and waved her off as he headed for the courtyard.

Breda was waiting for him, leaning against a tree and lazily skimming a newspaper. He lowered the paper as Havoc approached, asking, “Well?”

The taller man laughed and grinned as he lit his cigarette. “I’m a better actor than you guys gave me credit. Everything’s going perfectly according to the plan.”

 

“I can’t fucking _believe_ it’s been two weeks since the frat laws were repealed and Mustang hasn’t so much as _sneezed_ in Riza’s direction,” Rebecca complained, swaying slightly as she set her beer bottle down.

“ _You_ don’t get to bitch about it,” Breda grumbled into his own beer. “You don’t work with them. The tension in the office is so thick you could cut it with a goddamn knife.”

“They just need to fuck and get it over with,” Havoc agreed. “His place, her place, the office, I don’t care. I’m tired of watching them undress each other with their eyes when they think nobody’s looking.”

Fuery was scarlet – partly from the booze and partly from embarrassment. He squeaked, “Those are our superior officers you’re talking about!”

“I don’t care who they are,” Havoc scowled back. “He just needs to bang her and we’ll all be happier.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen of its own accord,” Falman sighed.

The others mumbled unhappy agreements, nursing their drinks, before Rebecca gasped, vigorously hitting Havoc’s shoulder in her excitement. He grumbled, “ _What?_ ”

“That’s it!” Rebecca’s grin was devious. “If it won’t happen of its own accord, we just have to help it along!”

Breda raised an eyebrow. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Hold on a second. We’ve got to lay out our intel. Vato, you have the best handwriting – take notes,” Rebecca commanded, pushing the empty bottles and scattered playing cards aside.

Falman quickly grabbed a napkin and a pen, ready to write whatever was needed. Rebecca went on, “So here’s what we know. One: Riza and Colonel Hothead are absolutely nuts for each other.”

“That what they pay you the big bucks for? Telling everybody the obvious?” Breda rolled his eyes. Rebecca punched his shoulder, earning grumbles from him.

“Two: Riza won’t make the first move. Her sense of propriety is too strong,” Rebecca continued.

“She’s not one to rock the boat, if she can help it,” Fuery agreed.

“Three: apparently the Colonel doesn’t have the balls to make the first move, either,” Rebecca said.

The men stifled snorts; Fuery at least had the dignity to try to protest. Rebecca persisted, “So, if we want anything to happen, we’ve got to make it happen. Take things into our own hands.”

“Becca, if we tell the chief that he needs to make a move on Hawkeye, he’ll burn our asses until we can’t sit for a week,” Havoc scowled. “How exactly are we gonna take things into our own hands?”

“You know, I’m amazed you all pulled off a goddamn coup with how by-the-book you think,” Rebecca scowled right back. “Of course we’re not going to march up to him and tell him that. He needs to come to that conclusion on his own.”

“And how are we gonna make that happen?” Breda asked.

Rebecca paused, brow furrowed in thought. She admitted, “I…hadn’t gotten that far.”

They were all quiet for a moment before Fuery said shyly, “…what if we make him jealous?”

“How are we going to do that?” Havoc asked.

“Give him some competition?” Fuery suggested.

“No, that could backfire too badly,” Breda shook his head. “We’re tryin’ to _help_ the chief, not sabotage him.”

“We don’t need actual competition,” Falman said. “Just the appearance of it.”

Rebecca caught onto his meaning first, grinning from ear to ear. “Now we’re talking!”

“Wait, what does that mean?” Havoc asked.

“Making him jealous should be easy enough,” Rebecca said. “We’ve just got to set Riza up on a date.”

“But it doesn’t need to be with someone legitimately interested in her,” Falman added.

Fuery’s eyes widened with realization. “As long as the boss doesn’t know, he’ll still get jealous of the other guy, and then he’ll make his move.”

Havoc laughed boisterously. “You guys are a bunch of sneaky bastards! No wonder we won on the Promised Day.”

“So who’s the lucky guy who gets to take Hawkeye on a date?” Breda asked. “It needs to be someone we know and trust.”

“Kain?” Falman asked, turning to the younger officer. “You two are close, right?”

Fuery turned crimson again, stammering, “I…uh…w-would r-rather not. I-I mean, I _could_ , b-but Sheska…”

The others laughed. Havoc clapped him on the shoulder and said, “We don’t want to ruin your chances, pal. Don’t worry about it. Vato, you’ve got that gal up north, don’t you? Guess that rules you out too. Heymans?”

Breda shook his head. “Acting ain’t my thing. I don’t think the chief would buy it.”

Havoc sighed and turned to Rebecca. “…Becca?”

“Riza’s as straight as they come, Jean,” Rebecca chuckled. “Besides. We’re friends. We get dinner together all the time. Mustang wouldn’t think anything of it.”

“Who does that leave, then?” Havoc grumbled.

“You,” Falman said. “You’re the only one left.”

“ _Me?_ ” Havoc laughed incredulously. “She’s one of my best friends. I can’t do that, it would be weird.”

“That’s why you’d be perfect!” Rebecca countered.

Havoc scowled at her. “You’re my girlfriend. Aren’t you supposed to be against this idea?”

Rebecca laughed. “Jean, there is nothing I won’t do to get Riza laid. The poor girl deserves something nice after everything she’s been through. Not that the Colonel deserves her, of course, but if he’s who she wants, that’s who she’ll get.”

“She won’t buy it,” Havoc continued to protest. “She knows that we’re together.”

“Does she?” Fuery chimed in. “You guys haven’t been very public.”

“Of course she does!” Havoc scowled. “Becca’s told her by now.”

Rebecca shook her head. “Actually, I haven’t had the chance to. Between General Grumman taking command, and the Colonel running you all ragged, I haven’t talked to her since the fraternization laws were repealed.”

“So she doesn’t know,” Breda mused.

“I still don’t think that helps much,” Havoc argued.

“Tell her you’re doing it to help your chances with Rebecca,” Falman suggested.

“Vato, how the _fuck_ –”

“Hear me out!” the tall officer snapped. “Tell her it’s so you can get things right when you ask Rebecca on a date. Like…a dress rehearsal.”

Havoc opened his mouth to argue but stopped, unable to find a sufficient retort. He reluctantly admitted, “…that’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Catch her in private, tell her the ‘plan,’ and ask her on the date in front of the Colonel,” Breda said. “She’ll be happy to help Rebecca, and the chief won’t know it’s not the real deal.”

Rebecca grinned. “Perfect. Maybe you guys aren’t so bad at this after all.”

“I still think this might backfire,” Havoc protested weakly.

Rebecca kissed his cheek. “You’ll do marvelously. This is foolproof.”

 

Breda had already returned to the office by the time Havoc finished his cigarette, leaving the lanky officer alone with his thoughts as he walked back inside. He was charismatic – that much he knew. He was pretty certain he could turn on enough charm and swagger that even the Colonel would believe Hawkeye was drawn in.

Havoc also didn’t want to piss the Colonel off right then and there by coming on _too_ strong, and get burned to a crisp.

It was a fine balance, one he hoped he could manage successfully.

It was surprisingly quiet in the office as Havoc walked in – Mustang was dutifully signing paperwork, albeit reluctantly, while the others were working on their own assignments at their desks.

Mustang looked up from his paperwork, jibing, “Look who decided to join us! And here I thought you got lost coming back from your smoke break.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Havoc waved him off.

Hawkeye was sitting at her little desk near Mustang’s, brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on something. Havoc cast a glance at the rest of the team – Breda gave him a solemn nod and Fuery offered a tentative thumbs-up, while Falman remained engrossed in his work.

This was the perfect opportunity. It was now or never.

Havoc strolled over to Hawkeye, sitting on the edge of her desk. She looked up, scowling at the distraction, but relaxed when she realized it was Havoc.

“Need something?” Hawkeye asked.

“Nothin’ in particular,” Havoc shrugged. “I just don’t feel like going back to work _quite_ yet.”

Hawkeye rolled her eyes. “The military doesn’t pay you to stand around. Get back to work.”

“You work too hard,” Havoc argued with a grin. “You need to take a break sometimes.”

Hawkeye scowled. “There’s work to be done, and _someone_ has to do it.”

Havoc cast a glance over at Mustang as he opened his mouth to speak again. He half-whined, “Riiii-zaaaaaa. C’mon, take a break.”

At the sound of his adjutant’s first name, Mustang’s head snapped up. He glanced at Havoc, clearly surprised, before looking back down at his paperwork, though his pen stayed stationary. Havoc smirked – he had the Colonel’s attention, even if his boss was trying to hide it. Perfect.

Hawkeye also looked up at the sound of her name, head cocked curiously. “And what do you suggest I do on my break, _Jean?_ ”

Havoc laughed, pleased that he had the conversation going exactly how he wanted. “I don’t know. Walk in the park, see a play, get dinner?”

She laughed. “Dinner? I fail to see how that’s any different from a normal night for me.”

“I’m not talking about a quick meal at home alone,” Havoc shook his head. “I mean a _nice_ dinner. With someone, of course. To make sure you don’t stay focused on work.”

Mustang had clenched his jaw so tightly one of his muscles was twitching. Havoc had to suppress laughter at the sight of his boss so clearly seething, despite his best efforts to hide it.

“Oh?” Hawkeye asked, an eyebrow raised. “Who, exactly? It doesn’t sound like you’re talking about Black Hayate.”

Havoc offered his winningest smile and said, “Who else? Me, of course.”

He glanced back at Mustang – his pen was trembling in his hand – before looking at Hawkeye for her reaction. She was smiling despite herself, amusement twinkling in her amber eyes.

“It almost sounds like you’re asking me on a date, Jean,” Hawkeye said. “Unless I’m mistaken?”

“The Fuhrer repealed the frat laws,” Havoc replied. “Nothin’ stopping me from shooting my shot now.”

Hawkeye laughed. “I have to give you credit for honesty.”

“Is that a yes?” Havoc pressed teasingly.

She offered a dazzling smile in return. “It’s a date.”

Havoc let out a whoop of victory, pulling Hawkeye from her chair and spinning her around as she laughed. As she sat back down, Havoc said, “Let’s go to La Mer. Does 7:30 tomorrow night work for you?”

Hawkeye nodded. “I’ll see you there at 7:30 sharp.”

Before Havoc could get another word in, she continued, “Now _please_ get back to work.”

“You got it, Riza,” Havoc grinned, ambling back to his desk.

The screech of a chair on hardwood startled everyone in the office. They all turned toward the source of the sound – Mustang was now standing at his desk, staring resolutely at his paperwork.

“Everything all right, sir?” Hawkeye asked, concern obvious in her voice.

“Fine,” Mustang replied without looking up, his voice thin and stressed. “Just need more coffee.”

He marched out of the office without making eye contact with anything but the floor, slamming the door harder than necessary as he left.

 

Roy Mustang knew he was being completely irrational. He _knew_ he was overreacting, and in all honesty, he knew he was being something of an ass.

He also knew he should be happy for Riza. Havoc was a good man, hell, a great one. His lackadaisical, ne’er-do-well country boy persona was as carefully crafted as Mustang’s playboy reputation – he was sharp as a dagger and cared immensely for his loved ones.

But he couldn’t help it. After everything he and Riza had been through, after years of pining for her – and her returning the feelings, or so he thought – seeing her so happy with another man made him sick.

He had nearly torn Havoc’s head off earlier for bringing Riza flowers in the morning. It had taken every ounce of self-control to grit his teeth and continue signing paperwork, instead of throwing the lanky lieutenant out the window.

Especially once he saw the smile his adjutant gave Havoc, a smile so full of effortless beauty and grace.

Mustang knew he had no claim to Riza, no real reason to be this upset. His aunt would be laughing her ass off if she saw him like this, sulking and pouting like a child who’d lost a bet, over a woman he’d never shown any outward interest in.

And yet, here he was, nursing his third scotch at the bar, watching Riza laugh as Havoc related a funny story to her. She looked beautiful in a modest blue dress, a carefully placed pearl necklace hiding the thick red scar across her neck. Her hair was down – a rare occasion indeed.

Mustang idly wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers through that gorgeous golden hair. It was probably even softer than it looked.

Not that he’d be able to find out, now. He’d been a coward and waited too long to tell Riza how he felt, and one of his own damn men had upstaged him. To be fair, though, he probably deserved this. Karma, and all that.

Still, though he knew he deserved some kind of karmic boot-up-the-ass, he desperately wished it had come in literally _any other form_. Not this way, being forced to watch the woman he loved more than life itself seem so completely happy with another man.

Well, he had one thing going for him – they hadn’t noticed him. He felt a little guilty, spying on their date. Not guilty enough to leave, though. Mustang tried to tell himself that it was purely for their protection – more Riza’s than Havoc’s. If Havoc, or anyone else for that matter, tried to do _anything_ to Riza, he’d be there in seconds.

He knew better than to think Havoc would ever try to hurt Riza, but at least this way he could almost excuse his voyeurism.

Riza laughed again, a beautiful clarion sound, and his stomach twisted into knots. It had been a long time since he’d seen her this happy and carefree. All he’d ever really brought her was suffering and pain. Clearly, someone else was better suited to be her partner, to bring her joy.

It didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

Mustang moved onto his fourth scotch as Havoc paid for the meal, helping Riza into her coat as they prepared to leave. She smiled up at him as he handed her her purse, leaning up and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

The entire room spun, and Mustang’s stomach heaved.

He couldn’t stay any longer, couldn’t ensure they made it home unscathed – the thought of the two of them returning to Riza’s apartment together made him taste bile. He pulled a wad of bills from his wallet, not even looking at the denomination, slapped them down on the bar, and all but ran out a side door.

No, he certainly didn’t have to like it.

 

“Have any of you seen the Colonel?” Hawkeye asked the following morning. There was something just shy of panic in her voice.

“Nope,” Breda shook his head. “Haven’t seen him since I went home yesterday.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Fuery said. “Maybe he overslept.”

“The Colonel _never_ oversleeps,” Hawkeye insisted. “Not this late. He should have been here two hours ago! If he’s not here in a few minutes, I’m going to go check his apartment.”

The door slammed open, causing Falman to yelp in surprise and Fuery to spill his coffee. Mustang stomped into the office, dark shadows under his eyes and his hair still obviously mussed from sleep.

“There you are, chief,” Havoc teased. “Miss your beauty sleep last night?”

Mustang’s glare could have melted steel; Havoc cowered slightly. The colonel opened his mouth to spit something vitriolic, thought better of it, and snapped, “Stop staring. You have work to do,” instead.

The men exchanged glances, all curious, but dutifully returned to work. Hawkeye, also looking more than slightly puzzled, cautiously approached Mustang’s desk, saying, “Sir, all the papers you need to sign this morning are right there. Do you need anything else? A coffee?”

“What I _need_ , Lieutenant, is some _space to breathe!_ ” Mustang growled. “I don’t understand how I’m supposed to get work done with you all harassing me.”

Hawkeye bit back her own harsh retort, instead bowing her head and saying, “My apologies, sir. I’ll leave you to it.”

There was an uneasy silence in the office as they all returned to work. The team hardly dared make a sound, while Mustang grumbled to himself under his breath as his pen scratched angrily across the papers he was signing.

He was glad he could trust that Hawkeye had done her due diligence in organizing his paperwork. Just being near his subordinates after the previous night was a strain on his focus and self-control – he was still resisting the urge to pull out his ignition gloves and teach Havoc a lesson.

What, exactly, would that lesson be? Hawkeye didn’t belong to him, and with the fraternization laws repealed, nothing could stop Havoc from taking an interested woman on a date.

Mustang clenched his jaw harder, the words swimming on the pages before him as he scribbled another illegible signature. He truly had no idea any more what he was approving and taking responsibility for.

Hawkeye seemed to notice his distraction, quietly asking, “Can I help you with anything, sir?”

Mustang looked up and found five pairs of eyes regarding him cautiously, wary of another explosion. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head, grumbling, “No, Lieutenant. I’m fine.”

She picked up one of the signed papers, squinting curiously at it. “Sir, this was an incomplete document. I needed your edits, not your signature.”

Fuck. He sighed again, taking all of the previously-signed papers and putting them back in his to-do pile. Hawkeye had a strange expression in her amber eyes but didn’t say anything, returning to her desk.

Mustang made eye contact with Havoc and Breda, who were still watching him for any sign of another outburst. He glowered back, clenching his hand around his pen, and the two soldiers ducked their heads and quickly returned to work.

If Mustang was honest with himself, he didn’t care for the atmosphere in the office. He preferred the laissez-faire, relaxed way his team normally joked around with each other to the tense, walking-on-eggshells mood now. He also knew that his temper was the reason for the current mood.

If he didn’t have this iron grip, though, he’d risk having to watch Havoc flirt with Hawkeye all day, having to see his subordinate flaunt his victory.

That could only end in disaster, so here they all sat, in uneasy silence.

Hawkeye getting up to put some paperwork in a file cabinet drew him out of his brooding and back to reality. He glanced at the clock, desperately hoping it was getting close to some acceptable time for him to take a break or go home.

Noon.

Fuck. He hadn’t even arrived until nearly ten; he couldn’t excuse taking a lunch break so early. It would be at least an hour before he could make his escape from the stuffy office, away from the painful sight of Hawkeye and Havoc.

Mustang had barely dragged his attention back to his work when the harsh screech of a chair on the floor made him wince. His head snapped up to find the source of the sound – Breda was standing, cringing at the noise he’d just made.

As the brawny man took a few steps from his desk, Mustang snapped, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Lunch?” Breda asked, puzzled.

“It’s too early for lunch,” Mustang shook his head, though his own stomach growled loudly.

Breda stifled a laugh. “C’mon, boss. I can grab you something on the way back.”

“Did I stutter, Lieutenant?” Mustang snarled, earning a surprised look from the other man. “I said no. You all waste enough time as it is – get some work done for once instead of fooling around.”

Breda hesitated for a moment, casting a glance down at his rumbling stomach, before sighing and sitting back down, picking his pen back up.

Another hour ticked by, and it was obvious the team was getting restless. Hawkeye stayed laser-focused, as she always did, while Mustang grumpily doodled transmutation circles on the back of an inane personnel report.

Fuery was desperately trying to stay focused, glaring at his paperwork as though that would help him work faster. Breda quietly snuck a melon bun from one of his desk drawers, casting frequent glances at Mustang in case he was in danger of another rebuke, while Havoc folded a series of progressively smaller paper airplanes from the morning’s newspaper.

Falman finished a report, picked up a few papers, and quietly walked over to Mustang’s desk, shaking a little as he did so.

It took the colonel a few moments to realize that Falman was standing there, absorbed as he was in unhappy musings and doodles. When he did look up, he demanded, “Yes, Falman?”

“The last of the incident reports for last week’s warehouse explosion,” Falman replied, handing the bulk of the papers to his commander.

Mustang accepted the papers, scanning them briefly, before tossing them in his to-do pile and returning to doodling. Falman didn’t move, though, still holding a paper. He cleared his throat after a moment, drawing the colonel’s attention back to him.

“Now what?” Mustang growled with a ferocious scowl.

Falman wilted under Mustang’s withering look, before straightening back up and saying, “Request for you, sir.”

He handed the remaining piece of paper to Mustang, who lazily skimmed it before once again relegating it to his towering pile of pending paperwork and returning to procrastinating.

Falman cleared his throat again and managed, voice thin, “That’s time-sensitive, sir. If I could have your signature on it, please.”

Mustang raised an eyebrow and picked the paper back up. He actually read it this time, his expression souring by the time he reached the end. “What’s this?”

“A request for leave, sir,” Falman replied.

“You must be joking,” Mustang laughed darkly.

“Um…no, sir,” Falman said. “It’s been almost six months since I had leave, and I’d like to go visit North City to see Anna…”

“At a time like this?” Mustang demanded, voice rising again. “Between everything we have to do with the rebuilding efforts, the training exercises, and the investigations we’re doing, you think _now_ is a good time to go gallivanting off to North City?”

“Sir,” Hawkeye cut in, warning clear in her voice.

“I…” Falman stammered, losing his nerve.

Mustang opened his mouth to berate him again before his eyes locked on the smaller form behind Falman. Fuery’s eyes went wide when he was noticed, as Mustang bellowed, “ _And what do_ you _want?_ ”

“ _Sir!_ ” Hawkeye exclaimed, rising from her seat.

Mustang whirled to face her, eyes dark with fury. The two glared at each other, ferocious scowls on both their faces, before Hawkeye breathed, “That’s enough, sir.”

“If I recall, _I’m_ the one that gives the orders around here,” Mustang sneered.

“ _I said that’s enough!_ ” Hawkeye yelled, startling the men in the room.

Mustang couldn’t find the words to manage a retort before Hawkeye continued angrily, “What the hell has gotten into you? I can tolerate you snapping at me, but the boys? What the hell did they do wrong? Breda wanted lunch. Falman wanted to visit his girlfriend. You don’t even know what Fuery wanted!”

“I will not tolerate this kind of insubordination from you, Lieutenant!” Mustang spat.

“Who spat in your coffee?” Hawkeye snapped. “You’ve been nothing but a foul-tempered asshole all day!”

The other soldiers’ eyes went wide with shock, while Mustang’s narrowed furiously. He hissed, “How _dare_ you…”

“You’ve been acting like a child for days, but this is ridiculous!” Hawkeye went on, color rising in her face. “Ever since Havoc asked me on a date, you’ve been insufferable!”

“Of course I’ve been insufferable!” Mustang yelled. “Watching the woman I love with someone else _is_ insufferable!”

Hawkeye’s eyes widened and the angry retort she’d had ready instead came out as a soft, “Huhhhh?”

Mustang turned white and backed a step away from Hawkeye, trying to stammer out an explanation. He managed to choke out, “I…uh…I…”

At their desks, Havoc and Breda fist-bumped, grinning with wicked glee at their superiors’ shock. Falman had to bite his lip to suppress a smile, while Fuery lit up with delight.

“Did...I…did I hear that right?” Hawkeye managed weakly.

Mustang’s pallor was quickly replaced with a crimson blush. “I…er…”

The two stared at each other, faces flushed, unable to form coherent words.

The sound of raucous laughter brought them both back to reality. Havoc was doubled over as he laughed, tears welling in his eyes, while across the desk Breda was trying to hide his snorts.

“We’re going to talk about this, outside, _alone_ ,” Hawkeye said, grabbing Mustang’s arm and dragging him out of the office.

The men pouted as the door shut behind their superior officers, the sound of Havoc’s laughter following the pair out.

Hawkeye led Mustang through a maze of hallways before ducking into a small office, empty save a dilapidated desk and broken chair. She shut the door behind them and locked it before turning back to her commander.

Mustang was still silent, looking as though he desperately wanted to melt into the floor and disappear. Hawkeye prompted, “Did I hear you right, sir?”

He looked down, taking great interest in his boots as he mumbled something inaudible. Hawkeye smiled and teased gently, “I can’t hear you.”

“…yes, Lieutenant,” Mustang admitted hoarsely. “You heard me correctly.”

He cleared his throat and went on, “I…that…it was unprofessional. My behavior for the past several days has been inexcusable. I sincerely apologize.”

“You love me?” Hawkeye asked.

The silence was agonizing before Mustang whispered, “Yes, Lieutenant.”

“You can’t imagine how long I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that,” Hawkeye said softly.

Mustang’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with barely-contained hope. He tried to ask something but couldn’t form the words, so Hawkeye smiled again and said, “Yes, sir. You heard me correctly.”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, a broad smile spread across Mustang’s face. He whispered, “Riza…” before crossing the distance between them, pulling her into a tight hug.

She held him just as tight, her face buried in his jacket. After a moment, she became faintly aware that her cheeks were wet with happy tears and she began to laugh.

Mustang pressed a kiss to her forehead and released her from the embrace, dark eyes shining as he smiled at her. He cupped her face with his hand, gently brushed her tears away with his thumb, and murmured, “I think you’ve wasted enough tears on my behalf.”

She laughed again, putting her hand on top of his. “Nothing I do for you is wasted.”

Mustang shook his head, albeit with the smile still plastered on his face. “I don’t know how I could ever deserve a woman like you.”

“Dinner would be a nice start,” Hawkeye replied.

Mustang laughed. “I think I can do that. I’ll get us a reservation at Zafferano. Does tomorrow night at 7 work?”

Hawkeye smiled. “It sounds perfect. I’ll wear the red dress I bought for our last undercover mission. I know you liked that one.”

“You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear. You always do,” Mustang replied, kissing her forehead again.

“So you _can_ be charming when you want to be,” Hawkeye teased, earning a good-natured scowl from Mustang. “Consider me impressed.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it yet,” Mustang promised. He sighed happily. “I love you, Riza.”

“I love you too, Roy,” she replied, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

When they broke the kiss, Mustang sighed and asked, “What are we going to tell the boys? You know they’re going to pester us about this.”

Hawkeye chuckled. “You know, something tells me that they knew this a long time before we did.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long, long, long two months since the last time I wrote/posted anything. Hopefully I'm not too rusty!  
> If you'd like to see me write anything, drop me an ask or a message on tumblr - same username!


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